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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955259">At Least You Didn't Leave Me This Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Of_A_Lie/pseuds/Half_Of_A_Lie'>Half_Of_A_Lie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Child Death, Explosions, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft, Other, Sad, Sad Ending, Tragedy, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:47:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Of_A_Lie/pseuds/Half_Of_A_Lie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on the unfortunate events that happened after the fall of Schlatt and during the first destruction of L'Manberg.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At Least You Didn't Leave Me This Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Two forms - a battle weary man with raven colored wings, and a former musician now turned arsonist and ex-president - stood there in a boxy room covered wall to wall in frantic scribbles. Barely feet apart, a son staring in astonishment at his father. A father who'd been missing for years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His father, who'd left him alone to raise his little brother. Claiming he'd be back. He never showed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur blinked back the fog that'd been clouding his gaze. He wet his lips, and finally spoke. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Phil?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man in question tilted his head just so, leveling a judgemental gaze at Wilbur, his trenchcoat clad son. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>" 'Just in L'Manberg', huh?" Phil mocked, arms crossing over his chest. He didn't move from his spot, which Wilbur was thankful for. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I-.." Wilbur swallowed thickly, hoping to be rid of the lump in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>".. I wasn't lying. This is still in L'Manberg." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil hummed. Sounding so judgemental. Wilbur hated it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hands tightened into fists at his sides. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Why are you here?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur wasn't surprised that his father dodged the question. All his life, as far back as Will could remember, he'd been so good at that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?" Phil asked, ocean blue eyes piercing through Wilbur's very soul. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Did he even have one anymore? Who knew. Certainly not him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will turned, unable to take staring back at the man before him. His father, the Angel of Death, giving him empty stares that made Wilbur's blood run cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pressed a hand to the wall nearest to him, allowing a hand to run over the dusty scratches in the stone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm here to set things right. To do what I should've done long ago. To prevent future wars and injustice from being inflicted on-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Bullshit." Phil hissed, and Wilbur blinked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was shocked he'd be so quick to call him out, especially since he was generally seen as a caring guy who gave good advice and listened to all sides of a story before passing judgement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur mentally scoffed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That image was certainly far from the truth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The reality was, Philza was just as human as anyone else. He made mistakes, chose sides, fucked up his sons' perception of him forever. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're here to blow everything up." Phil continued. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will had forgotten he was there for a moment. What a lovely moment that was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're going to ruin everything for everyone, just because you think you didn't get what you wanted." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil stepped forward. Wilbur stepped back, their movements mirrors of each other's. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"But you did. What you wanted," he waved a hand, wings briefly flaring to the sides as if to punctuate his words. "as I understand it was L'Manberg. And now that you have that back, you're really going to let it go again?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will was stunned into silence. He couldn't help but feel like a child again, being lectured by his father for watching TV for too long after he was supposed to be asleep. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not letting it go. I'm going to make it so everything bad that happened here before will get washed away. All the blood that soaked through the grass, the footprints of people no longer with us, the cries of war," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur stepped to the side and away from his father, pacing to the other side of the room, purposefully not looking him in the eye. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"All of that will be gone. Soon wiped from everyone's memory as well. And then, finally, L'Manberg will have peace. The reset it needed to return to the way things were before." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil slowly shook his head, eyes sad. "You're wrong, Will. None of that is going to change what's happened here before. The things other people have done. They won't revere you as a hero." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur flinched. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that. Of course he did. Hearing it from his father didn't lessen the pain, though. It only made it sting worse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Good thing I'm not here to be a hero, Phil." Wilbur murmured, making a slow, cautious trek back to the button, as if scared Phil would try to stop him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't, much to his surprise. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just stood. Waited. Watched with those patient blue eyes and set jaw. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"..There was a saying once, by a traitor. I don't know if you know them, Eret." He spoke, exhaling slowly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was going to do this. Destroy everything he'd built. The place he raised his son in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up, finally meeting Phil's gaze. He knew what was going to happen next. What he had to make his father do. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He'd never get to introduce his son to his father. Never get to walk the streets late at night, talking back and forth with Niki. Never get to watch Tubbo and Tommy playfully bicker over which disc was better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And that was okay. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"It was never meant to be." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hit the button. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything exploded around him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He vaguely saw his father throwing himself in front of his son, shielding him from the blast and rubble with his wings. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When his vision cleared and things started to settle, Will carefully pried himself up off of the floor, yanking a sword out from under a large stone brick from nearby. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watched his father look down at L'Manberg, currently being ravaged by TNT explosions and withers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Will!" Philza scolded, as if that could make him take back what he'd just done. "It's all gone." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur stood next to his father, a soft, breathy chuckle leaving him. L'Manberg was truly gone. The buildings were destroyed. People were fighting everywhere. He was sure there was an epic monologue happening somewhere below. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"My L'Manberg, Phil." He threw his arms out, beaming. "My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His arms dropped to his sides as his whirling thoughts caught up to him, a small tear tracking down his cheek. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"If I can't have this, no one can." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Philza said nothing, only stared in shock at what Wilbur had become. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This next part would be the worst. One life left, and this was how he was going to waste it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur turned and shoved the sword into his father's hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Will, wh-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Kill me." He interjected as Phil started to speak. "Kill me. Kill me right now, murder me with this sword." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will pressed the blade further into Philza's palms, giving him no chance to refuse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Killza." He mocked, and Phil tensed. "Killza. Kill me right now. They want you to do it. Murder me." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I-" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Philza, kill me." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're my son!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will finally broke. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever dam had been holding back the large well of tears snapped, and everything came pouring out at once. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Dad," he choked. "Please." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He barely felt it when the sword plunged into his chest. Couldn't feel the blood start to pool on his clothes and drop down to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He did, however, feel himself being pulled into his father's arms, an embrace he weakly sank into. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No words needed to be said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The way Phil cradled Will's face, patted his hair, dried his tears.. that was more than enough. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Will smiled, blood dripping from his chin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then everything went dark, and Will felt himself slip away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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